


The Arctic Shift

by DianaSolaris



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Bathroom makeouts, Dirty Jokes, First Kiss, First Meetings, Focus on Sheith, Friends With Benefits, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 18:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaSolaris/pseuds/DianaSolaris
Summary: Altea is officially the coldest capital city in the world. Keith is stuck on the Arctic shift, Lance won't stop drinking coffee, and there's a cute guy in a tuque giving him bedroom eyes.Help.





	The Arctic Shift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyrikin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrikin/gifts).



                Altea was officially the coldest capital city in the world. Keith wished he was joking, but the radio had confirmed it – actually, several times over, because when it was _this cold,_ nobody ever had anything else to talk about but the weather. Altea was, in fact, at this juncture, colder than the North Pole. Who the hell lived somewhere that got _colder than the North Pole?_

                Well, thought Keith, at least three people did. Him, Lance, and the one, sole customer sitting in their Bridgehead and nursing a shitty coffee. It was so quiet and dead outside that for all he knew, they were the _only_ three people left in the city. Everybody else had probably fled to California, like people with senses of self-preservation and _without_ shitty bosses who paid minimum wage and promised time and a half for working today.

                Keith was going to _hold_ him to that.

                Speaking of holding –

                He grabbed Lance’s wrist and pulled his hand forcefully away from the vicinity from his waist, especially since it had been creeping downwards. “I’m not your heater, Espinosa. And we’re at work.”

                “But _Keiiiith-_ “

                “Work.”

                “There’s nobody _here._ ”

                “She’s here,” Keith nodded at the old woman in the corner.

                “Are you sure she’s not dead? She hasn’t moved in five minutes.”

                “I can see her breathing.”

                “Well, she’s half blind anyway. And deaf.”

                “I’m still not letting you grope me at work,” Keith grumbled, returning his attention to his phone. There was a moment of blissful peace. Then Lance’s head slowly slid between Keith’s phone and face, blue eyes wide and pleading.

                “ _Lance!_ ”

                “See, you called me by my first name that time!”

                “Go play on your phone if you really can’t find anything to do.”

                “I can’t! You’re hogging the only working charger.”

                “That sounds like a you problem. Drink some coff-“ Keith paused, then sighed, trying not to let his entertainment show on his face. “How much _did_ you drink?”

                Lance twisted his toe into the tiles, trying to look innocent. “I was bored. But now everything’s moving in slow motion. Good news, I’m not cold any more.”

                “Bad news?”

                “Bad news, I gotta pee every five minutes. Speaking of which, be right back.”

                Keith snorted, looking back at his phone and shaking his head. Of course he was getting stuck with Lance on the longest, most boring shift in existence. There were worse people to work with than his questionable-friend with less-questionable-benefits (actually, the benefits were quite good; Lance had to put all that hyperactivity somewhere) – it was just that with no customers, it fell upon _Keith_ to distract Lance from the rapid-firing of his own brain.

                If he bothered. Which he didn’t. Mostly because watching Lance try to entertain himself was in-house entertainment in and of itself.

                Then came a wondrous sound. An unexpected sound. A sound which almost made Keith drop his phone.

                The door opened.

                “W-Welcome to Bridgehead!” Keith fumbled. The poor guy coming in was bundled up from head to toe – the only visible part of him were sparkling grey eyes between his tuque and his scarf, and he yanked off his hat, a few flakes of snow tumbling off.

                “What can I get you to-“ Keith cut himself off with a quiet meep as the customer pulled his scarf down. Pretty. Um. _Very_ pretty. Like, lantern-jaw, scarred-nose, lips-that-had-probably-sucked-Adonis’s-cock pretty. Rugged pretty.

                ‘No way in this universe was he gay’ pretty, but a guy could dream. And stare. And cry a little internally.

                 “Give me a moment,” said the customer with a smile. The smile was also pretty. The voice was – Keith considered the benefits of just melting behind the counter. He was going to die. He was going to die in this Bridgehead of sheer hotness on the coldest day of the year and Lance was never going to let him live it down.

                Keith should have known better than to think of the devil, because Lance chose that moment to stroll out of the bathroom, whistling as he did up his jeans under his apron – and then freeze with an audible “Ooooh.”

                The customer waved nervously, pulling off his gloves. “Hey! It’s quiet in here. I guess not a lot of people out and about today.”

                “Y-yeah,” Keith managed to stammer out.

                “And you two got stuck with the shift?”

                “Sadly enough,” sighed Lance dramatically, crossing the floor towards the customer – and then just as dramatically slipping on what Keith imagined was an entirely fictional piece of ice.

                “Whoa!” The man darted forward and caught Lance in his hands – Keith only noticed now that they were mismatched, one of them a silvery colour. A prosthetic. “Are you okay?”

                “Me?” said Lance innocently. “I’m just wonderful.”

                Keith seethed, then ducked behind the counter to hide his desperate flush. Lance was making a fool of himself, and _he_ was _hiding._ So much for professionalism. Well, as much professionalism that could be expected from a pair of twenty-year-old baristas who had arm-wrestled for the big spoon the other night.

                He peered over the edge of the counter. Lance had gotten the guy’s coat off and hung it up by the door – they _had_ a coat rack? Shitty coffeeshops weren’t supposed to have coat racks – and turned out Mr. Perfect looked somewhere between a body builder and a Dorito. It was probably a good thing most of Keith’s body was still hidden behind the counter.

                “Hey Keith!” said Lance cheerily. “He’s apparently sticking around for a bit!”

                “Yeah,” said the man somewhat sheepishly. “My car froze up due to the cold and I’ve been on hold with the company for twenty minutes. So, coffee and company?” He gave Keith a little salute. “I’m Shiro.”

                “Merp.” Keith disappeared behind the counter again.

                “Did I do something wrong?”

                “Nah, I think he’s fighting with something. Give me a moment.” A few seconds later, Lance rounded the counter and squatted next to Keith. “Dude. Stop being weird.”

                “Weird?” hissed Keith. “ _I’m_ not being weird! You’re being weird! You’re all over him!”

                “And you’re hiding from him like a grade schooler. You’re never going to get laid with this attitude.”

                “I _do_ get laid,” Keith grumbled. “Regularly. By you. Or does that not count?” It came out a little more venomous than he’d meant, and he hunched over his phone again.

                “…Are you _jealous?_ ”

                “No,” Keith mumbled.

                “Of _who?_ ”

                “I don’t know. I haven’t decided. Also, not jealous.”

                “You know we can _both_ want to climb him like Mount Everest and still be a thing. Whatever kind of thing we are. The unspoken sexy thing.”

                “We’re friends with benefits. That’s not an unspoken sexy thing.”

                “It could be. I-“

                Somebody cleared their throats above them. Keith felt ice run down his spine, and slowly lifted his head in unison with Lance.

                Shiro stood at the counter, hovering over them, a smile playing around his lips. “…Mount Everest, huh?”

                “We were talking about, um.” Keith’s face flushed red. “Lance’s cousin.”

                “Adopted cousin.”

                “Twice removed.”

                “He’s not here.”

                “He’s in California.”

                “We FaceTime him sometimes.”

                Shiro’s eyes sparkled. “Mhm. Shame. This cousin sounds very attractive, but I don’t do long-distance relationships.”

                Beat.

                Oh.

                Oh, he _was-_

Keith tried to remember how to talk.

                “Can I get a coffee or do you two need a moment first?”

                “No we’re fine I’ll get you a coffee right now-“ Keith darted to his feet and tried not to burn himself on the steamer. “Uh, black, or-“

                “Two milks, two sugars.”

                Keith nodded, trying to make the redness in his face vanish. And Lance? Lance leant on the counter again.

                “So, Shiro, you live in town or just visiting?”

                “I actually just moved here. I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so…” Shiro winced a little. “Arctic.”

                Keith snickered despite himself. “It, um. It happens. Some winters are better than others.” He couldn’t quite meet Shiro’s eyes.

                “I imagine it’s easier if you’re not sleeping alone.”

                _Fuck._

Keith set the coffee down and slid it gently over to Shiro, trying not to stare at the prosthetic. It was beautiful, made of a dark metal and painted with purple designs.

                “Like it?”

                “U-uh-“

                Lance popped up over Keith’s shoulder. “That means yes in Keith.”

                Shiro chuckled. “And you’re fluent in Keith.”

                “Very fluent.”

                Keith wondered if he had literal steam coming from his ears or if he was just imagining. “C-coffee. You have coffee now.”

                “Are you trying to ask me to leave?”

                “No,” he mumbled. “I just can’t feel my face.”

                A gentle touch brushed over his cheek, and Keith gasped despite himself, eyes snapping up to meet Shiro’s grey ones. It was the prosthetic hand on his face, he realized. “I can’t feel it, either. But it sure looks nice.”

                Keith had absolutely no response to that. It was, in retrospect, kind of a good thing Lance was there.

                “He’ll go on a date with you tomorrow evening. He likes Chinese food and tacos. Have him back by nine o’clock or I’ll get out the shotgun.” Lance rested his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “And _I_ will go on a date with you next Tuesday, and I really like burgers. You can keep me overnight though. I’m easy.”

                “You _cannot_ keep him overnight,” Keith grumbled. “I’ll get cold.”

                “So you two come as a unit then?” Shiro asked, grinning and still holding Keith’s chin.

                “Yes,” said Keith at the same time that Lance said, “Nah.” Then they looked at each other. “No,” said Keith. “Yes,” said Lance. Then they both looked at Shiro.

“…Er, pending?” Lance added.

He just laughed. “I’ll take it. So tomorrow evening at 8:00?”

“Meep.”

“Does that mean yes in Keith?”

Keith nodded quietly. Then – “Uh – we live at – well, theoretically, _I_ live at 88 Oak Street. And that’s where Lance is 80% of the time too.”

                “You don’t live together.”

                “Yes.” “No.” Beat. “…It’s complicated.”

                Shiro sipped on his coffee, still grinning, and finally pulled back his hand. Keith already missed it. Then there was a ring from his chest-pocket, and with a noticeably sour look, he pulled out his phone. “Yes? Oh. Already? …Well, yes, it’s been forty minutes. Yes. Right away.”

                Keith couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment in his chest. “The car people are here?”

                “Yeah. I mean, I have a few minutes.”

                Lance cleared his throat. “I’ve got the counter. And we’re not exactly busy.”

                Keith glared at Lance, then slowly flustered himself into a nod. He rounded the counter, adjusting his shirt collar, and gulped as he watched Shiro disappear into the bathroom. Well. Why not? He followed him in, closing the door behind him –

                -and Shiro’s lips were on his, hands bracing Keith’s hips, tongue seeking entrance and mouth moving against his with a passion that he hadn’t expected. Shiro was even taller than him than he’d thought, without the counter in the way, and he could taste the coffee on his breath.

                “Sorry,” Shiro breathed between their lips, forehead pressed to Keith’s. “You’re just – _very_ attractive.”

                “Says the person who nearly made me pass out when he walked in.”

                “Don’t exaggerate,” Shiro murmured with an embarrassed flush. Oooh. This Keith would work with.

                Keith pushed Shiro gently backwards and around until the taller man was the one pinned against he wall. “Really? You don’t think you’re handsome?”

                “I mean – I –“ Shiro’s words vanished in a gasp as Keith stood on his tiptoes and nipped at his earlobe. “Oh fuck.” His hands squeezed at the smaller man’s waist. “K- _Keith-_ “

                “Mm, I already like how you say my name.” Where was this _coming_ from? Keith decided he’d clearly spent too much time with Lance.

                Shiro laughed weakly. “I feel pretty helpless right now.”

                “Good. I can work with that.”

                “I thought you were _shy._ ”

                “I have my moments.” Keith licked at Shiro’s neck, then bit down gently, savouring the shiver that went through Shiro’s body. Then he returned to Shiro’s lips, kissing them and stroking his cheek. “Consider it payback for earlier.”

                “Fair,” Shiro breathed – then cursed quietly as his phone went off again. “Tomorrow night?” he said eagerly.

                “Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.”

                “Chinese food?”

                “The spicier the better.”

                Shiro chuckled. “I knew we’d get along.” He gazed at Keith a little longer, then – “Shit, okay, I actually have to go. Um – later!” He finally tore himself away, and Keith watched him pull his coat and other winter accessories back on before waving an awkward goodbye to Lance.

                Lance poked his head around the corner a few moments later. “Soooo?”

                “So what?”

                “Did you touch his dick?”

                “I did not touch his dick.”

                “Good, you’re classy. Seriously though. How hot is he?”

                “I’m not talking about this with you,” retorted Keith, although he couldn’t help the impish grin spreading over his face. “…Here, anyway.”

                “The old lady left while you were in the bathroom.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows.

                “Don’t wiggle your eyebrows at me. I think we need to have an _actual_ talk before you get in my pants again.” Keith rejoined him behind the counter.

                “Uh oh. Actual talk?”

                “I’ll figure it out in a bit.” Keith’s chest felt warm. He wasn’t _stressed_ about it really. Just, apparently the friends part of the friends-with-benefits wasn’t as questionable as he thought. “…Thank you.”

                “Eh? For what?”

                “Just. Thank you.”

                Cold days had their upsides.


End file.
